Scars
by Spoons1899
Summary: A series of vignettes, from Leon's point of view. He muses on his various relationships with Ada, Claire, and Ashley. They pretty much can be read separately, or as a story. Takes place during RE4.
1. Rest

Scars  
As you no doubt read in the summary, this story is sort of a series of vignettes, but that can all read together as one story. It takes place in the game, with no major alterations except a few creative liberties I've taken here and there. It's sort of goes in a Leon/Ashley directions.

---

Leon tightened his grip on Ashley's hand as she stumbled, her brown boots tripping on the pine-needle carpeted ground.

"Just a little bit longer." He wasn't sure if he spoke the words out loud, or if they were only in his mind. "Just a little bit longer, Ashley. You can make it."

Whether she heard him or not, Ashley pressed on, clinging to his hand but moving forward nonetheless. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and what Leon guessed was her naturally pale skin was so white it was nearly transparent. They needed rest, and badly. Ashley seemed to be on the brink of collapse, and Leon wasn't doing all that great himself. He thought he'd remembered seeing a small cabin somewhere around here, away from any main part of the _Pueblo_. Even if it had a few occupants, they could easily be taken care of. . .

There. Leon pulled up short, causing Ashley to stumble once again. She would have fallen but for Leon's quick reflexes that had him wrapping a supportive arm around her waist. "See that?" he asked, once he'd steadied her and could use his hand to point.

Ashley's large hazel eyes took a moment to focus. "The cabin?" she asked, voice slightly hoarse from fear and exhaustion.

"Yeah," Leon said, taking her hand once more and pulling her towards the dilapidated wooden building. "I told you it wasn't much further." When they reached the front door, he let go her again. "You wait in those bushes there," he said, trying not to notice the fear which, though she clearly attempted hide it, flared up in her eyes, "While I check if anyone is inside."

Ashley nodded once, then got down flat and crawled under the bushes. This time Leon tried not to notice the brief flash of white that peaked out from under her skirt.

A quick search of the house revealed it to be empty, and it appeared to have been that way for a long time. Leon hurried back to Ashley, helping her from the bush and escorting her into the back storage room where he decided they'd spend the night.

The room was small and dark, lit by only a hanging oil lamp, but it was located in the back of the house and had no windows and only one door, so Leon determined it would be the safest place for them to sleep. Thick burlap bags which Leon had already checked lined the walls. They contained nothing more sinister than flour and sugar.

Ashley dropped to the floor the moment Leon had ushered her into the room, her legs splayed out in front of her as she leaned against some of the sacks. Leon sank down next to her after barring the door, and offered her a drink from his canteen.

Ashley barely managed a thank you, accepting both the water and half of a ration Leon handed to her. She set the canteen between them once she'd finished drinking, then dropped her head back and shut her eyes. Leon thought she had gone to sleep and began checking his ammo clips, utterly startled when Ashley spoke.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"What?" Leon asked, thinking she might be talking in her sleep.

"I'm sorry," Ashley repeated, long golden lashes parting to reveal a slit of an eye that was fixed on him. "I'm sorry you have to put up with me. I'm sorry I'm such a burden. Though," Both eyes were open now, looking at Leon with an unreadable expression in them. "I suppose it's your job, isn't it?"

"Yeah." For some reason, the emotionless way she spoke made Leon uncomfortable. "But that doesn't mean I mind. I understand. You've never done this before."

"Unlike you," Ashley said.

"Right," Leon agreed, and felt a slight chill travel down his spine like it always did when he thought about Raccoon City. "Unlike me."

They were silent for a while before Ashley said, instinctively reading his mind like she seemed to do a lot "I remember hearing about that, you know." She shifted a bit next to him, a small sigh of pain, no doubt from cramping muscles, escaping her lips. "And I saw the pictures. Your hair was shorter then."

She saw the odd look he shot her and let out a noise that might have been a laugh. "It was supposed to be kind of a secret, I know," she continued, "But with my dad and all. . ." Her gaze seemed to turn inward, and her expression became closed. "I though then that it seemed really terrible, but now I really _know_ how bad it must have been. . ." She trailed off, leaving a slightly awkward silence that Leon didn't even try to fill. Talking about Raccoon City around anyone but Claire-- and then only rarely-- had never been easy for him, and it was even harder now that he'd seen Ada again.

"I heard about a woman that was there with you," Ashley said, practically reading his thoughts once more. "Not another cop, but like a civilian. Was she the one, the one in red that--"

"No," Leon said, a bit more forcefully than he meant to. "I mean Ada was there in Raccoon City as well, but the woman you heard about is named Claire Redfield. She was there looking for her brother who was a member of a special unit that got involved in another Umbrella incident. Claire and I just sort of got thrown together in the whole mess of things."

"I see." Ashley's eyes had fluttered closed again. "And were you two. . . involved?"

"No," Leon said, this time in a completely calm voice. It was the truth, though his mind flicked back to that night in his apartment some years ago. Leon had carried both the terror of the city and the hurt of Ada around with him for a long time. He had nightmares more often than not, and took to drinking them away on more than one occasion.

Claire had shared his nightmares, and shared the lingering horror that plagued them wherever they went and separated them from everyone else because normal people couldn't possibly understand. Claire, however, didn't resort to liquor to cure her problems until after she'd returned from the Arctic.

She'd found her brother there at last, but she'd lost someone else very close to her, lost him through the terror and ruthlessness of both Umbrella and the nefarious Wesker. In a way, just like Leon had.

She'd come to his apartment a few months after returning from the ordeal. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary, as Claire would usually stay with him if she was in the area, and vice versa. Ever since Raccoon City they had become fast friends, and had spent many sleepless nights talking together in the dark.

This particular night had begun the same way, only with a few bottles of Jack Daniels that rapidly began disappearing between them. That was when the whole story came spilling out, about Steve and the T-virus and Wesker and everything else. By then all the bottles had been consumed and Claire was sobbing into Leon's shoulder.

The night ended with some clumsy pawing and fumbling kisses that might have gone further if one of them (or perhaps both of them-- Leon couldn't remember that part very clearly) hadn't passed out. As it was, they woke up in the morning sprawled on his living room floor, both fully clothed, extremely stiff, and suffering from massive hangovers.

Their friendship had not suffered. If anything, it had only strengthened, because one thing Leon did remember from the whiskey-blurred haze was that he had seen in Claire's eyes exactly the same pain and suffering he himself felt, and that they understood each other, as perhaps no one else in the world did.

Of course, Leon didn't tell any of this to Ashley. First and foremost, he didn't want her to know about the side of him that sought refuge in liquor and took advantage of his heartbroken best friend. He also didn't want to scare her by saying that it'd been years before he managed any real semblance of a recovery from Raccoon City. She had enough to worry about as it was, so he left it by saying

"No, we were never involved. Just good friends."

"Oh." Ashley shifted again, but this time Leon sensed it had more to do with her being unsure if she should ask a question she clearly wanted to than any physical discomfort. Leon knew the question anyway, without her having to ask. _Were you and Ada ever involved?_

And the answer to that was a lot less clear.

Thankfully, Ashley seemed to decide that particular question was too awkward, and asked instead, in a sleep-heavy voice, if his gun was loaded.

Leon's lip twisted in a wry smile as he told her that yes, it was, and he'd have it ready at a moment's notice should anything nasty try and burst through the door. No matter how many times he'd explained the differences to her, Ashley still couldn't tell a pistol from a shotgun or his TMP from his sniper rifle. They were all just guns to her.

She asked him to let her try firing one once, in case she was ever alone and had to defend herself. Leon had obliged, showing her the proper way to hold it and fire it, but even then the recoil had knocked her practically on her back and she had developed a spectacular bruise on the inside of her arm.

_So unlike Ada_ Leon found himself thinking as he watched Ashley drift off to sleep, reassured, no doubt, by his presence. It was a ridiculous thought, because he had no desire at all to compare Ada and Ashley. He couldn't, really, because they were almost polar opposites.

Ada was tall, slim, dark haired and dark eyed with an air of mystery that she wore about her like one of her oh-so-sexy dresses. She could fire a gun and smash in a zombie's head and crawl through the dirt-- all without messing up her hair or her sultry, haughty demeanor. She was good, incredibly good, at keeping things-- like her emotions or her true intentions-- well hidden, and she rarely needed help from anybody. In fact, _she_ seemed to often be saving _Leon's_ life. Not that he minded, really. It just proved that Ada certainly didn't need anyone to take care of her. She could manage just fine on her own.

And then there was Ashley. Short, blond, and curvy, with those amazingly big hazel eyes and full lips. Ashley was probably about six or seven years younger than Leon, but she alternatly seemed a lot older and a lot younger. She was open, honest, and kept nothing hidden. She relied almost wholly on Leon, and though he sensed she was sometimes embarrassed or ashamed by how much she depended on him, she depended on him just the same. She aroused in him a fierce protectiveness that seemed to stem less and less from the mission and more from Ashley herself.

After Raccoon City, Leon had been left hurting and sore, and had attempted for awhile to fill the void Ada had left behind. He had sought out women that reminded him of her-- fiercely independent, strong-willed, and entirely capable of taking care of themselves. It may have even been one of the reasons he turned to Claire. She was another ass-kicking, zombie-busting femme fatale that Leon had convinced himself were his type.

And then there was Ashley. She was certainly _not_ the femme fatale type. More like the damsel in distress type. Only Leon wouldn't have called her a damsel. He just called her Ashley. And every once in while, usually just to himself or in particularly grave or frightening situations, sweetheart. Ada was not the kind of woman whom you could call ësweetheart'. But Ashley was.

She had that way about her that made you _want_ to protect her, whether you needed to or not. Obviously here in this foreign and hostile environment Ashley needed Leon's protection, but he got the feeling that even if they were somewhere normal and safe he would have wanted to treat her the same way. She was innocent and sweet, both in looks and demeanor, even now after all that had happened to her. In so many ways she was like a little kid, but in others she was definitely like a full-grown woman--

"Leon. . ." He was startled out of his thoughts by the soft, plaintive muttering of his name. Looking down at Ashley he found her eyes were still closed, but her face was turned towards him. "Leon, you're not sleeping."

"No," he replied quietly, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. 

"Leon. . ." Ashley didn't smile. On the contrary, a frown creased her forehead and her eyes scrunched up in a manner that could only have been described as impossibly cute. "You need to go to sleep."

"I will," Leon assured her gently. Reaching over, he adjusted one of the sacks she was laying on. "You too."

Ashley made an incoherent murmur and the frown disappeared as she slipped back into sleep. Leon watched her for a moment, his face contemplative, then he too lay down on the sacks, one hand resting on his fully loaded gun.

There were normal night noises all around them-- crickets, small animals, and the occasional gust of wind-- slightly dulled by the shack's walls. Just listening to the night, you would never have been able to tell that Leon and Ashley were striving for whatever peace they could find in the middle of a desperate and terrifying environment. Just listening to the night, one could almost imagine they were simply sleeping under the stars, without a care in the world. And just listening to the night, Leon could almost believe it.


	2. Pictures

I always forget to do this at first-- I don't own Sqauresoft, Resident Evil 4, or any of the characters mentioned. This is a nonprofit thing, etc. etc. You know the drill. On we go.  
----

"That's a terrible picture of me."

"What?" Leon pulled back from the scope of his sniper rifle and his scanning of their present area to glance down at Ashley. If there had been any threat of danger, he wouldn't have risked it, but the area seemed to be totally deserted.

"That picture." Ashley reached forward to tug at his belt. "The one you've got with you." She made a face, not seeming to have noticed Leon's involuntary flinch or how he abruptly pulled away at her touch. "It's awful. Did my father give it to you?"

"Something like that." Leon couldn't actually remember who'd given him the photo-- it had been just another part of his mission briefing. How long ago that seemed now. That had been back when Leon had taken the picture, looked at it rather detachedly and thought ëOh, cute. This shouldn't be so bad.'

Ha. Yeah, right.

"You can only tell so much about someone from a picture," Ashley was saying in a musing sort of tone. She tended to talk, prattle almost, whenever she could. Leon figured it was one of her ways to relieve a little tension and distract herself from the gnawing fear that he knew, from experience, plagued her constantly. "That one makes me look like. . . a cupcake."

Leon snorted. "A cupcake?"

"Yeah." Ashley hunkered down further against the low wall Leon had had her sit behind, wrapping her arms around herself with an almost comical pout on her face. "A Barbie cupcake."

Leon gave another short little laugh. He certainly had never thought of Ashley looking like a Barbie cupcake, but she was right, you _could_ only tell so much about someone from a picture. Leon was reminded of the first time he met Ashley, coming face to face with the real person that, up until then, had just been a picture to him.

He'd entered the small room of the church with the same apprehension and foreboding that he was entering every room with by that point. He had been expecting to find Ashley, or at least some clue or-- though hopefully not-- remains of Ashley. He had not been expecting to have a wooden board swung at his head the moment he entered the door.

Luckily, his reflexes born from years of training had saved him from a nasty bruise, enabling to grab the board before it connected with his skull. Ashley had let out a little shriek and had fallen backwards, grabbing desperately for something else she might use to strike out at him. Sensing that she was panicking, and knowing that she needed to be calmer for him to speak to her, Leon reached out and seized her arms, pulling her close to him so he could pin them to her sides.

She started scream, but Leon cut across her by saying, calmly and firmly, "Don't be alarmed, I'm not here to hurt you."

Perhaps it was the fact that he spoke in unaccented English, or the steadiness of his voice or the honest sincerity in his eyes, but Ashley stopped squirming and her screams ceased.

"You're not?" she asked in a tentative voice that was rough from her cries and suppressed tears.

"No." Once she appeared to have calmed down, Leon released her and took a step backward. "My name is Leon Kennedy and I was sent here by your father." He had looked her straight in the eyes, wanting to make sure she fully understood. "To rescue you."

Ashley's face had practically lit up at those words, her large eyes becoming near-circles as they widened with surprise and happiness. Her lips parted, but the only words of gratitude she seemed to be able to managed were "Oh. Well. . . Thank you." And then she'd burst into tears.

She had tried to hide them of course, pressing a hand to her mouth and turning her head away, but they'd come out anyway in harsh gasping sounds. Leon understood completely, thinking that had it been six years ago and he was still in Raccoon City and someone had said a similar thing to him, he probably would have started crying as well.

He'd responded to Ashley's tears by drawing her gently into his arms and patting her soothingly on her back, comforting her as he would a small and frightened child. In that moment, he had been reminded of Sherry-- a little girl who had also been caught in the horror of Raccoon City-- and how he had once comforted her in the very same way.

Ashley gained control of herself fairly quickly, and they had pulled apart, Leon taking her hand to lead her back to the main section of the church and Saddler. . .

Her photograph showed her as a carefree, natural young woman who seemed simple almost to the point of naivety. It was possible that Ashley had been like that normally as well, up until the point when she'd been kidnapped and dragged to a isolated area full of virus infected murderers. Now she was certainly not carefree, and all simpleness was gone. The longer they spent here, the less naive she became.

Since it had happened to Leon once before, he recognized the all-over numbness that often started taking the place of actual emotions in situations like the one they were in. It was a self-preservation thing, he thought, a way to be able to blast the heads off living men and women without suffering a massive breakdown. Leon's numbness had kicked in fairly quickly, almost after he killed the first Ganados. He didn't have to develop it, like Ashley. He'd done that in Raccoon City, and he'd discovered that once you establish the numbness, you can pretty much call it forth anytime you needed to.

It's what he had done during his meeting with Ada.

Ashley didn't have a pre-established numbness to fall back on, however. Despite the fact that she'd been kidnapped and spent a fair amount of time with some of the cultists, she had yet to experience any real violence until Leon had brought her out of the church. There they had been met with two Ganados whom Leon had immediately disposed of with his shotgun.

Ashley had stood there, completely rigid with wide eyes, staring at the bloody, gaping holes in the Ganados' stomachs. She hadn't said a word or shed a tear, but later, when they stopped to rest, Leon heard her throwing up over and over again into the underbrush on the side of the road. It was another delayed reaction he was all too familiar with.

It took probably about three days for the rations to stay down. By then Ashley eyes, while still unnaturally wide, had lost their tears and had taken on a flat, glassy look. Now she hardly noticed the blood that splattered on her when Leon was forced to blow away some unfortunate soul who'd been trying to carry her off. She'd look dispassionately down at the body, then thank Leon for saving her life. Again.

"It is safe?" Having dropped off into silence a while ago, Ashley's abrupt question startled Leon.

"For now," he replied with a sigh, returning his sniper to his back then holding out a hand to help Ashley to her feet. "Let's go."

"Okay." Ashley sighed too as she brushed herself off. Her hair was lank and dirty, her clothes smeared with dirt, blood, and other things she didn't want to think about. Her skin was bruised and the color of wax paper.

Leon wasn't much better, but as he was wearing long pants and dark clothing, his dishevelment was less obvious. He barely noticed his own, and he barely noticed Ashley's. He was willing to bet that in this stage of the journey, she didn't either.

"Ready to go?" he asked one she'd finished adjusting her tattered skirt.

"Ready to go." Ashley moved forward and slipped her hand into his, their customary walking style. She held onto him loosely-- allowing him to bring a second hand to his gun with ease-- but she held him nonetheless. And Leon held onto her right back.

And holding onto each other thus, they continued on their way, walking the silent paths of the night.

A/N Wow, what a boring chapter. They're mostly going to be like this, Leon's thoughts and musings and all, but hopefully they won't all be this boring. I think I'll probably do five or six. If you're reading, but not reviewing, thanks for reading. I wish you'd review. If you're reading AND reviewing, you're awesome. I don't think anyone is reviewing and not reading, because that would be weird.


	3. Holding

Okay, here we go again. Thank you, everyone.

**Chapter 3: Holding  
**

If they didn't come through the door, they usually came through the windows. Leon was watching all the windows, aiming his gun at each in turn while Ashley crouched on the floor behind him. She asked in a small, scared whisper if they were all gone or not, and Leon glanced behind him to answer her.

It was a classic mistake, one he should've never have made. It was basic knowledge that whenever you were aiming your gun at something or someone, you should never take your eyes off it. Leon knew that, did it without even thinking about, yet now here he was, taking his eyes off the windows to give Ashley a reassuring look. To provide a reassuring look of her for himself. It was a mistake he should never have made, and he paid for it when the door burst open.

Leon spun around at once, finger on the trigger and ready to fire when a soft lilting voice said, "Easy, easy. Save the bullets for the guys that matter."

"Luis." Leon's relief at the familiar face was matched by his humiliation at being caught off guard. "Hey." Reaching a hand behind him, he helped Ashley stand. "Ashley, this is Luis. This is Ashley Graham, the President's daughter."

"A pleasure," Luis said, reaching out to take Ashley's hand and lift it to his lips. "I understand now why the both the President and los Ganados are so eager to keep you all to themselves."

Again, Leon withdrew his gaze from the windows of the cabin. He knew he shouldn't have, but he needed to see Ashley's reaction to Luis' flirty words. For some reason he found himself hoping she'd snatch her hand away or at the very least favor Luis with a haughty look that Leon knew she was capable of, but she didn't do either of those things. She merely looked down her hand in Luis' and blushed a little, murmuring "Nice to meet you."

"I bet it is," Luis said with one of his crooked smiles that Leon had once found cynical and almost cool, but that he now thought were impossibly sleazy and ridiculous. "After seeing nothing but ugly _asesinos_ around here. Oh, and the cop of course."

To Leon, it sounded as though he were not much better than a ëugly _asesino_.' Reaching forward, he wrapped a hand around Ashley's arm and drew her behind him again. For protection. From los Ganados. Reminded of them, Leon glanced behind him and saw the faint orange glow of torches.

"How many are out there, Luis?" he asked, his gaze back on the windows but his mind very much on the young woman behind him.

"A lot," Luis said with another one of those smiles that Leon was finding supremely irritating. He had his gun out as well, facing them and aiming it at the windows behind their backs. "I drove them off for a little while, but they will be back. Perhaps we should have the lady wait upstairs." His gaze flicked to Ashley for a moment, and his smile widened. She looked up at Leon, fear and trust making an odd mixture in her eyes. Taking advantage of the fact that Luis was watching the windows, Leon took his gaze from them for a moment and looked back at her.

"You should probably go," he said, slightly grudgingly. He had just been about to suggest the same thing, but now that Luis had said it he sounded stupid. "I doubt they'll have ladders or anything, but if there's any sort of problem you yell or come down and get me, okay?"

"Just give her one of your guns, _hombre_," Luis suggested with another almost wicked smile.

Leon turned to look at him, a reply on his lips, but Ashley spoke first. "I don't know how to fire a gun," she said.

"You don't?" Luis looked almost more cynically amused than surprised.

"No." Ashley fixed him with a hard stare now, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly. "Why would I know how to fire a gun?"

"I thought maybe Leon would have taught you." He now switched his gaze to the cop, definitely amused this time. "But perhaps he enjoys playing the. . .hero."

"I haven't really had ammo or time yet to teach her properly." Leon felt the need to explain, remembering the one time he had made an attempt at teaching her. "And I certainly don't now. Go on upstairs, Ashley."

"Okay." Ashley started to head towards the steps, then turned back. "You. . . you'll be okay, right?"

Seeing and understanding the fear in her eyes, Leon took a step forward and took her by the arm again, only this time his grip was much gentler and nearly tender, making it almost a caress. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'll take good care of him," Luis threw in. Leon gave him a dark look, unsure if he was being serious for once or making a sardonic joke like usual.

"I'll be fine," Leon repeated to Ashley. He focussed his eyes on hers, holding both of her arms now. "I won't leave you."

"Promise?" Ashley asked in a whisper.

"Promise," Leon said. He had the feeling that if Luis hadn't been in the room he and Ashley might have shared a hug or possibly even something more in that moment, but as it was he just said "Now-- upstairs," and released her. She gave him one last look, then turned and headed up the rickety staircase, it's wooden boards creaking irritably under her weight.

"Looks like they are getting closer now," Luis said. He moved around to take up a position that put him back to back with Leon. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Leon said, then added with a slightly defensive edge "I do happen to realize that we are in a life and death situation."

"Of course you do," Luis said, and Leon thought he heard a chuckle under the sound of Luis cocking his gun. "Now that the President's pretty young daughter has left the room."

"What?" Leon demanded, tempted to turn around but determined to keep his eyes on the windows where the glow of torches was even more visible. He was able to hear them now, shouting to each other in Spanish. 

"Don't worry," Luis said, and Leon definitely heard him chuckle this time. "Your American princess is safe from me. She was only looking at you."

"I don't know what you mean." Leon muttered, completely caught off-guard and feeling uncomfortable.

"I think you do." There was a shatter of glass as the first explosive was thrown. Luis and Leon both ducked, shielding their heads from the blast, then Luis fired a single shot into the darkness beyond the window. Judging by the muffled scream that followed it, he hit his mark. "And I understand. You are her. . . how do you say it? Knight. In silver armor."

"Shining armor," Leon corrected automatically even as he took off the arm of another Ganados intent on blasting their heads off. The explosive went off outside, eliciting another round of screams.

"Okay." Luis' shoulder jerked against Leon's back as he fired off another shot. "Shining armor. You take care of her, _hombre_. And she needs taking care of. Not like that Ada _chica_."

"What?" Another shatter of glass had them ducking, but Leon soon took care of the attacker. "You know Ada?"

"Of course." Luis shook his head, his wavy hair tickling the back of Leon's neck. "She's a bit of a scary bitch." He fired off a shot, neatly exploding the head of a Ganado.

Leon pulled off one of his tightly trained kick moves, sending another flying into a wall. It hit with a loud crunch, it's neck broken. "Yeah," Leon grunted. "A bit of a scary bitch."

He said the words without really thinking about them-- an easy reply to Luis' chatter while they murdered the townspeople closing in around them. But saying them had reminded him of his first impression of Ada. Had he thought of her as a scary bitch? Bitch-- no. Scary-- oh yes.

He had been so naive back then. A ërookie' cop, on his first mission. He'd arrived at Raccoon City almost painfully excited to be there, prepared to leap into his assignment with the wide-eyed and breathless enthusiasm he still possessed at that time. Then, of course he had run into the first zombie, and things had gone rather downhill from there.

By the time he had come across Ada, Leon had moved past the disbelief stage, and had even lost a little of the gut-wrenching, heart-stopping fear that had him breaking out in sweats and vomiting occasionally even when there weren't zombies around intent on eating his insides. When he had first met Ada, Leon had been physically and emotionally spent and covered in blood, sweat, tears, and less desirable things. He become almost numb then, almost past caring, past hope, past help. And then Ada walked into his life.

She broke through the cloud of gore and terror and peril like a ray of cold autumn sunlight-- unaffected, unruffled, intent on her own purpose. She'd been beautiful and mysterious and sexy and smart and warm and everything Leon needed to jump-start himself back into gear. She handled a gun with more expertise and comfort than he did, strutting around in her little dress as though she was on a runway and had been for every day of her life, but crawling through pipes and running through sewers as though she were in the middle of a simple training exercise.

Leon had been entranced by her. Though it took him awhile, he eventually came to the conclusion that what he had felt for Ada hadn't been love. It had been a response triggered partially by the situation, and partially by Ada's extreme allure and competence while he faced the most difficult situation of his life.

He'd felt a similar response to Claire, but that one had been clearly of friendship because she had been as obviously confused and lost as he was. His relationship with Claire had grown beyond Raccoon City, developing into something outside the world of life-and-death situations and the need for human contact-- any human contact. It had changed into something more normal, something real that he could rely on over the years.

Had his relationship with Ada changed at all? It certainly wasn't normal, or reliable. Leon had half-convinced himself that it wasn't real either. Seeing her again-- so unexpected and yet not unexpected at all-- had been a jolt that he doubted anything could have prepared him for.

And yet, he had been prepared. At least somewhat, for even if his relationship with Ada hadn't changed, he himself had, and that made all the difference. He no longer needed to follow her around with puppy-eyed adoration. He could answer her flippant remarks and not-so-subtle come-ons with easy, glib replies of his own.

Her presence and looks may have still caused his stomach to flutter a bit uncomfortably, but Leon no longer felt a desperate need to impress her. He wasn't that inexperienced rookie anymore, thrust into a situation that he had absolutely no way to prepare for. He wasn't nearly as young, as trusting, as guileless as he had been back in Raccoon City. He was older now, jaded, cynical and a hell of a lot wiser about the ways of the world. This time, he was facing something he'd seen and done before, and he wasn't facing it alone.

Leon's thoughts flicked briefly to the young woman upstairs, even as he kicked the legs out from under a Ganado and shot it in the face. She was even more innocent and ignorant than he had been when he first entered Raccoon City. She was almost unworldly in her simple purity, and Leon was determined that she should stay that way as much as possible.

"Hey," Luis breathed, soft voice a bit ragged from his exertions. "Leon-- I think they're leaving."

Leon threw off the remains of Ganado who'd latched on to his arm and looked around. It seemed Luis was right. The Ganados were retreating, turning their backs on the cabin and walking off. Perhaps they decided they were fighting a losing battle, or perhaps they'd simply lost interest. Either way, Leon was glad of their resignation. Keeping on eye on the windows and a hand on his gun, he took the opportunity to sag against the wall, attempting to roll the ache out of his shoulder.

"Perhaps your princess could help you with that," Luis said, rolling his own back against the opposite wall.

"Shut up," Leon sighed, and Luis laughed softly. All Leon's annoyance with the other man had evaporated, even as the mysterious Spaniard picked himself up, offered an airy goodbye, and left through the same door he'd come in. For some reason, Leon trusted him, and, despite some frustrations, rather enjoyed his company. Like he enjoyed the company of a certain young American upstairs.

"Ashley?" he called, not wanting to summon the energy to walk up the steps. "Ashley, you can come down now. It's safe." There was a brief moment of silence, and Leon felt something twist in his stomach. "Ashley?" He shoved himself off from the wall, bolting towards the steps. "Ashley! Ash--"

She was standing right in front of him, looking worn and bewildered. "Leon," she said in a voice that was far too heavy and weary for his liking. "What is it? I thought you said it was safe." She glanced apprehensively behind him.

"It is safe," he hastened to assure her, reaching out almost compulsively to enfold one of her hands in his own. "I'm sorry. You just didn't come right away when I called--" Realizing how stupid and arrogant that sounded, Leon blushed-- actually _blushed_ like a little girl-- and looked down at Ashley's hand curled in his own. "I should have come up and gotten you, I'm sorry. I. . . I was worried."

"It's okay." Amazingly, Ashley put her other hand over his and made a sound that, under normal circumstances, might have been a laugh. "I started to come right away, but my skirt got caught. . ." She removed her hand briefly to gesture down on the green plaid fabric, now sporting a large tear on one side. It was Ashley's turn to blush, perhaps at the ridiculousness of the whole thing, or perhaps at the amount of smooth white thigh the rip now revealed. She glanced back up at Leon, hand sliding back over his. "Where's Luis?"

"Gone," Leon said, and was happy to see this information didn't seem to upset Ashley at all. He took a moment to enjoy the feeling of their hands overlapping, their bodies so close but only just touching, their eyes locked together, before saying gently, "We should probably get going too."

"Right." Ashley released him and headed down the steps, fingers nervously toying with the new tear in her skirt. One she reached the bottom, she gestured to the door, attempting a smile. "Lead the way, Leon."

It didn't take much effort for Leon to smile back. He moved forward and took her hand again, pushing open the door and doing just what she asked of him.

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A/N: Woo, another chapter. Thanks everyone, for the reviews! I'm doing this for you now:)


	4. Scars

Here's another one for all you fabulous readers and reviewers. I love you all. I hope you're not getting too terribly tired of this, though if you were I suppose you wouldn't be reading. :)  
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4. Scars

_It's a miracle._

Leon leaned against the door that he had locked and bolted securely behind him, and let out a long sigh, reflecting on their fortunate situation. Ashley's happy words came back to him again.

_It's a miracle._

A small smile flitted across his face. Even after everything they'd been through, even after all the horrors she'd seen and experience, she could still find such cheerful pleasure in such a simple thing.

Well, Leon had to admit to himself as he listen to the the spray of water behind the opaque green curtain, it _was_ pretty nice.

It had been Ashley who'd found the room, having hidden in it while Leon disposed of some mace-wielding monks. She'd coming running up to him once the last of their dying screams had faded away, and announced delightedly that she'd found a room with a proper bathroom, and a shower.

Leon had followed her back down the hall, a little doubtful and a little worried that he might have to say something that would wipe the rare and beautiful smile from Ashley's face. However, once he'd thoroughly inspected the shower room and it's door, he'd been able to pronounce the whole thing secure and willingly let Ashley go first. The availability of hot water was questionable, and though he knew Ashley was content that there was water at all, as he was, he still wanted her to have the warmth, if it was there.

"I'm almost finished, Leon," the young woman's voice came floating out from behind the plastic green curtain that divided the showers from the rest of the plain stone room. She sounded almost unrecognizable, being momentarily unplagued by worry, disgust, or fear. "My _god_, does this feel good. They're got soap and everything!"

"Good," Leon called back, smiling again. This was a side to Ashley he'd seen only small flashes of-- the happy, carefree young woman who smiled and laughed easily. He was having difficulty quelling his protective instincts-- having Ashley out of sight, even just behind a curtain across the room, always caused a little nervous fluttering in his stomach, but a different sort of fluttering was starting as Ashley let out a final, happy sigh, and switched off the water. It took him a moment, where he silently passed a towel to Ashley and she made little noises of exclamation over how clean it was, to realize that he was feeling tentatively happy.

"Okay, I'm coming out,"Ashley said, and threw back the curtain, looking far different than Leon had ever seen her look before. She was wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped snugly around her curvy figure. Her short hair stuck to her neck and shoulders in wet tendrils and her peachy skin seeming to glow, but whether that was from the absence of the layers of dirt it had borne before or from the expression of contentment she wore, Leon didn't know.

"I put your clothes over there," Leon said, gesturing to the table where Ashley's skirt, top, sweater, and boots lay. He'd chivalrously wrapped her under garments in her skirt, so Ashley could pretend he hadn't seen them if she wanted. "So they didn't get wet, you know. You can change while I shower--"

Ashley glanced over at the pile of clothes and wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to put those on ever again," she said with distaste. "It seems even worse now that I'm clean."

"Well. . ." Leon felt a involuntary blush creeping into cheeks at the thought of Ashley running about the castle in nothing but a towel. Not for the first time, he silently cursed his fair skin. "I'll just go quickly then--" He moved towards the shower, but Ashley stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

"Leon," she said, and gave short little laugh. Leon thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard. "You can't shower with all your gear on. You'll ruin it. Here--" She took another step closer to him, reaching up to begin working on the buckle near his shoulder. He could smell the citrus soap she'd used, and he was disconcerted by not only her proximity, but the proximity of all her bare skin as well.

"Ashley. . ."

"You do the belt and I'll get these," Ashley chirped, still pulling at his shoulder holsters, apparently oblivious to the awkwardness she was causing Leon. "And then I'll turn around and shut my eyes and you can take your shirt off--" Leon shivered involuntarily as her hands slid down his back. "--and your pants and your. . . and I'll put them with my stuff."

Leon didn't know how to object to this, or really any legitimate reason why he should, so he let Ashley fumble with the buckles of his worn leather holster while he removed the rest of his guns and his belt. After finally managing to undo all the clasps, Ashley slid the holsters off his arms, then carried it with Leon's other items to the table where her clothes lay. 

She kept her back to him and trilled "I'm closing my eyes!"

Smiling slightly at the unfamiliar brightness in her voice and the way she dramatically clapped her hands over her face, Leon removed his pants and shirt, and-- with a nervous half-glance towards his towel-clad companion-- his underwear. He quickly folded it all into a neat little pile then stepped into the shower and cranked the water on full blast.

"All clear," he called to Ashley, trying to suppress what would surely have been an undignified groan at the blissful feel of the warm water on his skin. He ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing at the sticky yet dry feel of the dirty strands. It had been _way_ too long since he'd been decently clean. He hadn't seen a bottle of shampoo in ages. Speaking of that-- 

"Which one is the shampoo?" Leon called out in Ashley's general direction. "There's a little blue one, but there's also--" His ramblings were cut short by the high pitched scream that echoed about the room behind the green curtain. He tore it aside and leapt out of the shower, cursing his lack of weapons and his nakedness but nonetheless prepared to face whatever evil now threatened his charge.

There was none, at least that he could see. The room was empty except for a very pink-faced Ashley standing in the middle of the room, clutching her towel and looking anywhere but at Leon.

Feeling his own face heat up, he hurriedly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, asking not without some irritation, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Ashley said sheepishly. "I mean-- there was a mouse."

"A mouse," Leon repeated dully. His adrenaline from the fear of Ashley being hurt was draining rapidly away to be replaced by a nagging sense of embarrassment.

"Yes," Ashley replied, still not looking at him. "Or a rat. It was big. It ran across the floor, right by my foot and it startled me. . ." She glanced up at last through partially dried bangs. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--" She broke off with a gasp, staring at Leon.****

"What is it?" Leon asked, feeling more than a little self-conscious at the way Ashley's eyes were raking his torso.

"Your chest," Ashley breathed. It did not sound like a compliment. "Are those all _scars_?"

Leon glanced down as his chest. "Um," he said. "I guess you could call them that."

"Where did you get them?" Ashley took a step towards him, her brow furrowed and her hands clenched on the top of her towel. "Surely not here?"

"No," Leon said, and couldn't resist the hint of a smile at her innocent naivety, displayed clearly by the question. "Any wounds I've gotten here wouldn't be scars yet-- they'd still just be wounds." He pointed to a long scratch on his shoulder, a bruise on his ribs, a burn on his forearm.

"But then. . ." Ashley's face was still creased with worry and a slight trace of fear-- regrettably her two most common emotions, as well as the ones Leon least liked seeing her experience. Knowing it was he himself who had caused them during one of the only times in this whole mess when Ashley had been happy and safe made Leon feel terribly guilty and rather angry. "Where did they all come from?" Ashley continued. "That other city?"

"Raccoon City," Leon supplied, unable to keep a flat smack of bitterness from his voice. "Yes, though one or two came from other missions and training exercises."

Ashley was quite close now, and reached out a long pale finger to gently trace a few of the old wounds that decorated his whole body, though Ashley was thankfully focussed on only his chest; puckered lines in various shades of purple or brown, small indents of abstract shapes, pale or darkened patches where no hair grew.

The feeling of the young woman touching him in so intimate of a way, especially when they were both only wearing towels over their naked bodies, was a little too much for Leon. Trying to ignore the fact the he was trembling again, he concentrated on Ashley's luminous amber eyes.

"Do they hurt?" Ashley asked quietly, expanding her curious, hesitant touching from one-fingered to full-palmed over one of the larger patches of dark skin that covered a spot just below Leon's right shoulder. 

"No." Leon put his hand over hers, halting any further movement on it's part. He'd done it in a vague idea to stop the situation from becoming any more personal and private, and to control his accelerating heartbeat and breathing, but it seemed to do just the opposite. "The physical ones don't hurt at all."

He knew by the way Ashley's wide and over bright eyes flicked up to his meet his own that she understood his meaning implicitly. It _wasn't_ the physical scars that hurt, that kept you awake in the night with fear-soaked dreams and twisted flashbacks, or twinged for years after they occurred with painfully clear reflection.

Ashley licked her lips, clearly struggling to speak. "Do they. . ." she managed. "Do they ever go away?"

Leon took a deep breath, his chest moving under Ashley's cool, dry hand that rested on one of the scars that had no place in Ashley's question. He knew exactly what she was asking, but he had no idea how to answer. Ashley was wondering the same thing Leon had wondered those many years ago, the thing he and Claire had discussed during so many sleepless night, the thing they had feared most for Sherry after the nightmare of Raccoon City was over.

Ashley was afraid of her fear. She knew it's cold, clinging embrace like that of a lover, and she was terrified of it. With her large, liquid eyes and slightly parted lips, she was begging Leon to tell her that she'd be able to get free of that embrace, begging him to assure her that the depths of frigid darkness where she could feel it dragging her did not exist.

"Ashley. . ." Leon wanted to comfort her, wanted to wipe that look of resigned sadness from her face for once and for all. He wanted her to be that happy, carefree young woman he'd seen so briefly when they'd first come into this room. He wanted to tell her everything she wanted to hear. 

He opened his mouth. The words wouldn't come.

How could he tell her what wasn't true? How could he promise her a life free from fear and pain when it was such a lie? A lie like cellophane over the dark truth of reality-- it looks nice in covering up the truth, but is ultimately pretty insubstantial and easy to tear off. He couldn't tell her such a lie. But he couldn't tell her the truth.

The nightmares, the whiskey, the meaningless sex with the people who's names and faces he could usually never remember-- Leon didn't want Ashley to know about any of it, and he certainly didn't want her to experience any of it.

He had pretty much become a vegetarian after Raccoon City; he could only manage meat as long as it was in something like bacon bits in salad or ground beef in spaghetti sauce, but he couldn't stomach it on it's own. He still remembered the day he'd been walking with Mike, a fellow police officer and friend, and they'd passed a small hamburger place. Mike had declared that it was the best burger place in the city and that Leon just _had_ to try one. Leon had relented, but instantly regretted it when one bite of the thick, juicy beef had him vomiting in the street, then stumbling home to spend three days in bed, sick and shaking and fighting against the tide of insanity that raged inside his head and nearly drowned him with his own thoughts.

Leon didn't want Ashley's life to be like that, one spasmodic episode after another. She didn't deserve to be a part of this whole thing in the first place and she definitely didn't deserve to suffer for it after it was over. If it was ever over.

That was another thing Leon couldn't stand to say to Ashley, something even worse than the mental scarring or lifelong self-torment. The possibility that they might not even make out of here alive seemed far worse than anything else, though Leon was sure there were times when Ashley eyed his gun with an interest that was more than a little morbid.

"Leon," Ashley breathed. There were tears in her eyes. Her other hand had somehow come to be resting near his elbow. "Leon, I. . ." Again, she struggled with her words. He wanted to give her the comfort she deserved, wanted to erase the pain. The words still wouldn't come, but he wanted. . .

Ashley took a step closer to him, trying again to speak, her large amber eyes wide windows to the fragile glass beauty of her soul. It was suddenly all too much for Leon. The calm oasis of the shower room, the exposed need of the woman in front of him, the exposed _skin_ of the woman in front of him-- it was all just too much.

Letting out a sound half between a growl and a groan, Leon abruptly closed the distance between himself and Ashley and wrapped his arms around her, splaying his hands on her back and pressing her against his bare, scarred chest. Her hand moved from one shoulder to the other as she wrapped her arm around his neck, her other hand sliding up his arm.

Leon tightened his grip on her, reveling in the feel of her soft, warm curves. Ashley did not seem to mind as she snuggled herself securely in Leon's hold, chin on his shoulder as her hand moved to his damp hair. Leon pressed his face to Ashley's neck, breathing in deeply, trying to absorb as much of her essence as he could. She was clean and he was dirty and he knew he should get back to the shower while he had the chance, but he couldn't move. She was pure and he was tainted; he had no right to be touching her but he didn't want to stop. She was his charge and he was her rescuer, but it didn't change the fact that he felt far more content holding her here than he had felt in a long time.

Ashley tilted her head back as Leon nuzzled her neck, then slid his check against hers as he pulled slightly away, seeking her lips. Her eyes were shut and those full lips were parted. She'd never looked more beautiful. Leon leaned in, his own eyes closing. . .

The bang of metal on wood sounded like an explosion in the quiet shower room. Leon and Ashley, their lips just centimeters apart, broke hurriedly away from each other. Leon dove for his weapons as Ashley fell back towards the wall, both of them staring at the room's barred door.

The faint clinking of metal chains and deep, rhythmic chanting signified the presence of the catatonic priests in the hallway outside. It seemed the mace that hit the door (at least that's what it had sounded like) had been nothing more than an accident, and the priests were moving on, chanting _muere, muere_ in time with their shuffling footsteps.

Silence roared in the shower room. Neither Ashley nor Leon could look at one another.

"You should get back to your shower," Ashley whispered at last. All emotion was gone from her voice, and her eyes had adopted the blank look they got when they were surrounded by death and danger.

"Yeah," Leon said, finding it hard to speak around a sudden lump in his throat. "Yeah. I'll go quick. If anything happens--"

"I know." Ashley flashed him a smile, but it was nearly as flat and dead as her voice. She put her hands over her eyes so Leon could remove his towel and resume his place in the shower. All her earlier playfulness was gone. The sudden shock of the priests had slammed them both painfully back into reality. They were in a life or death situation-- they had no time for anything but survival.

When Leon emerged from the shower Ashley was dressed once again in her ragged clothing. She handed Leon his own without speaking, then turned away in equal silence while he dressed. She offered no help with his holsters or equipment, but once he had everything situated she moved forward and took his hand. A fresh contingent of monks were making their way past the room, also chanting mindlessly. Leon and Ashley waited patiently for them to pass.

"What were they saying?" Ashley asked after the last chants had died away. She'd taken French in school, she had told Leon before, and knew absolutely no Spanish. He didn't know much more than her, but he did know _muere_. In their situation, that word was all too relevant. Ashley was looking up at him, trust and concern warming her previously cold and blank eyes. "Leon?"

"I don't know," he told her, holding that small pale hand just a little tighter in his own. "Probably some ritual chant that doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah," Ashley agreed, sounding like the young girl Leon kept forgetting she was. "That's probably it." She looked up at Leon again and he managed a smile, though he was sure it was as lifeless as the one she'd given him. Then, one hand holding his gun and the other holding Ashley, he led the way out of their brief haven of safety and security into the dark danger of the unknown, keeping an ear out for any sound of the priests or their chants.

_Muere, muere_.

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A/N:  
I, like Leon, am a partial vegetarian. I do not eat hamburgers either. Just in case anyone was wondering. Review please, if you'd like.


	5. Desperation

Sorry for the obscenely long wait in updating this. There have been a lot of other things occupying me. I am amazed at the reception this little story has received, and I honestly appreciate it. You have Exdeamon (/u/1338631/) to thank for its continuation.  
Inspiration struck fast and hard, so that's how this was written. I apologize for any inaccuracies.

**Chapter 5 Desperation**

The whip-like crack of Leon's sniper rifle faded into the echoey silence of the large castle room. The last monk fell to the floor with a squelchy moan, his body dissolving in the genetically mutant way Leon had at first found so disturbing but that he now considered a near blessing.

Next to him in her customary crouch, Ashley gave a quiet cough. "God," she murmured as she took Leon's offered hand and straightened up. "I hate this place." She coughed again, a thick wet sound that drew Leon's attention.

"Ashley?" he asked, turning to look at her, his grip on her hand unconsciously tightening. "Are you okay?"

Ashley nodded but didn't speak, stifling another cough. Leon felt a hot bubble of worry start in his stomach, burning its way up through his throat. He too coughed— a reflex.

"Can we rest soon?" Ashley's voice was plaintive and ragged, alerting Leon to her slumping shoulders and shallow breathing.

"Of course," he answered at once, without even thinking. "We'll find a place as soon as possible."

The moment he began looking for one, Leon realized just how tired he himself really was. His chest and head ached like he was recovering simultaneously from a rigorous training session and a nasty bout of the flu. His throat scratched and his eyes stung, but he had to keep moving, had to find a safe place before he could rest, if only for Ashley's sake. Ashley, whose feet were dragging more and more with every step, whose hand was slackening in Leon's grasp, who tripped and fell, landing hard on her knees—

"Ashley!" The pull on Leon's hand dragged him from the dangerously unprofessional stupor he had been slipping into as his exhaustion increased exponentially, imagining soft pillows on a generous bed, perhaps big enough for two. He was on the floor in an instant, one arm going around Ashley's waist in a fiercely protective gesture, the other reaching forward to gently cup her chin and tilt her face towards him. "Are you alright?"

Ashley's large hazel eyes swam in and out of focus before finally fixing on Leon's. Her skin was even paler than usual, and her full lips trembled. Nonetheless, she managed a wearied nod. "Tripped," she said, voice slightly slurred.

"Yeah." Leon's arm tightened around her waist though it would have made more sense for him to reach for his gun with both of them in such a vulnerable position. "But we need to keep moving. Do you thinking you can manage?"

Again Ashley nodded, then moved her hands to Leon's shoulders, her body pushing and flexing against him as she tried to rise. Leon did his best to help, but the feel of her sagged so helplessly against him made his own limbs feel a little less than sturdy and his breath catch painfully in his chest. Eventually they both managed to climb to their feet, and started off again. Leon threw both sense and protocol to the wind and, rather than simply hold her hand, pulled Ashley completely against the side of his body, holding her there tightly with his arm.

After a few steps, she began to cough again. Leon hissed unhappily as the shudders that racked her body traveled into his, keeping her firmly moving forward until he realized suddenly the cough wasn't stopping. Alarmed, he released Ashley and spun her around to face him. The sight of blood on her lips filled him with horror and an almost violent urge to vomit.

"Ashley," he breathed, reaching forward hesitantly, wanting to touch her, to help her, but utterly unsure of how and feeling wretched. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't touch me!" The rasp of Ashley's normally soft voice startled Leon almost as much as the words, and he found himself unable to do anything but stand there stunned as Ashley pushed him away and took a few stumbling steps backwards. Then the part of his brain that was still able to focus clearly when she was around snapped on, and he moved forward, raising his gun in readiness while he growled Ashley's name. For a moment her eyes seemed to flash red and she took a few more defiant steps back, then screamed as spikes suddenly filled the air between them.

Leon leaned back in surprise while Ashley took off running, ending pressed against the wall where straps immediately encircled her small frame. She screamed once— a sound matched by the primal roar the ripped unbidden from Leon's throat— before disappearing from view.

Time seemed to freeze as Leon stared at the blank wall where Ashley had been just a moment before. His worst nightmare come true, even worse than being pitch-forked to death by los Ganados, or eaten alive by the monsters from Raccoon City, or turning into one himself, was the thought of losing Ashley, losing her to what ever ravages this hellish place had in store for her.

Something like bile or a sob rose in Leon's throat, and he felt his own mouth fill with the coppery taste of blood. He spit on the floor, then allowed himself one deep breath to dispel all of his exhaustion, fear, and despair before he set off at a run, determined not to leave Ashley alone for a moment longer than necessary, determined to find her.

He pushed himself to the limit, pushed himself until he was gasping and bleeding and maybe even sobbing though his body had no tears to spare. A confrontation with Ada and watching Luis die gasping and writhing in front of him only served to fuel Leon's desperate search to find Ashley, to save her. To save himself from the brutal horror he was finding harder and harder to keep at bay the longer she was away from his side.

Every Ganado and crazed monk he came across, Leon couldn't help himself from picturing them with their decaying hands on Ashley's skin, beating and bruising, making her shudder and scream. At first he thought her plaintive cries were in his head, his brain so filled with thoughts of her torment it was now providing a soundtrack. Then he realized they were real and he close and oh God, if he could just get to her—

His gun fired like a benediction, bleeding the area pure until he could reach the most sacred object of all. Then Ashley was in her arms and her body was against his and Leon couldn't stop himself from running his hands all over it, tracing soft curves and smooth skin, checking for wounds and confirming she was real, she was safe, she was alive.

Ashley made no move to stop him, but simply held onto him with trembling arms and pressed her warm mouth against his neck. At first he thought she was crying; then he realized she was muttering an apology over and over again against his skin.

"It's okay," Leon said, bringing himself under control enough to wrap his arms firmly around her waist, stroking gentle lines down her back. "It's okay."

And in that moment, it was. All the terror and desperation of having Ashley ripped from his side and out of his sight faded into the security and pleasure of having her in his arms. Leon had survived what he thought was the worst possible scenario; now that he and Ashley were reunited, things could only get better.

He swore silently to himself he'd never lose her again. He didn't expect to break his promise so soon. And more than once. Each time he did, he felt something inside him break as well.

The second time she was taken, Leon became even more reckless with his own safety, punishing himself for not seeing and stopping the giant winged monstrosity that had swept down and carried Ashley off. Again he met up with Ada as he frantically tried to find a way to follow Saddler and his captive to island, and again his thoughts could hardly be coaxed to stray from images of honeyed hair and almond-shaped eyes. It was enough that on the boat ride over that Ada, who seemed perhaps a little put out at Leon's lack of response to the many expanses of tanned skin her slinky red dress did little to hide, demanded,

"What is with you, Leon?"

He only grunted in response, rechecking the ammo in his clips. Ada took a closer look at him, expertly spinning the wheel of the speed boat.

"You look like hell," she declared.

Leon said nothing, both too tired to contradict her and because he knew she was right. Las Plagas were starting to take as much of a toll on him as worrying about Ashley; his mouth tasted almost constantly of blood, he frequently broke out in cold sweats and shakes, he could rarely sleep but was constantly tired. The rolling of the waves under the boat was enough to lull him into an almost catatonic state of consciousness until they arrived and Ada disappeared in her usual enigmatic manner.

But at that point, Leon hardly cared, consumed again by the need to find Ashley, to secure her safety. A video feed showed her in a cell, with Ganados, and holy shit if they even touched her again—

Leon's insides felt as if they were slowly imploding. He didn't know if it was due to Ashley's absence or Las Plagas or both. His hands on his gun were slick with sweat. His vision blinked and blurred around him. Ganados fell dead at his feet. He walked through their decaying bodies feeling like Dante and Virgil wading through the rivers of Hell. A mace scraped his arm and a spear caught him in the chest but he didn't feel the pain. Blood congealed over darkening bruises looked like a roadmap of his journey. His veins pumped dread, his lungs breathed determination. He had to stop and force pills down a swollen, broken throat more than once to control convulsions that pushed him to his knees.

And then he found her.

He clawed at the cell door with shaking hands, wrenching it open, throwing himself inside and catching Ashley in one motion. She looked almost like he felt, shaking and pale and sickly and dazed, but she also looked beautiful and perfect and real and Leon couldn't stop himself from crushing his lips against hers.

The first thought that struck Leon was Oh God, I shouldn't be doing this and then, as Ashley moaned and opened her mouth to him, kissing him fiercely back, Oh God, yes I should.

A small convulsion rocked its way through Leon's body, knocking him against Ashley so that she stumbled and backed into the wall. Leon went with her, refusing to relinquish his hold on her body, letting nothing break the contact between their mouths.

It wasn't right, he knew, to be kissing her like this, one hand tangling in her hair to tilt her head to just the right angle, the other stroking over the swell of a breast and the dip of her waist, mouth hard and needy. It wasn't right to be kissing her at all, not when she was his charge, and he was her protector, when he was on a mission and she was in danger, when she was dependent and he was in—

Ashley rolled her body once against his, for a moment driving all rational thought from his mind. Her hands fisted in his shirt, trying to tug him closer even as he practically flattened her against the wall. Beneath the saltiness of tears and the bitterness of suppressed terror, Leon could taste the clear sweetness that was the essence of Ashley. Kissing her for a real was a thousand times better than he'd ever imagined it, and for a moment he let himself sink into that essence and pretend the kiss was as it should be, in the warm sunlight of a meadow or a park, free from murder and fear and blood, gentle and sweet. . .

The realization that it was exactly the opposite of all those things was what made Leon pull back, disentangle himself from Ashley and take a deep, shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, putting one hand to the wall to brace his trembling body, stopping himself from collapsing against her. "I didn't mean—"

"No." Ashley shook her head from where she leaned against the wall, her eyes still closed, her mouth slightly open and her breathing coming fast and shallow. The sight hurt Leon's chest and arm as he put nearly all his weight on it, forcing himself not to touch Ashley again.

"I shouldn't have—"

"No!" Again Ashley cut him off, her eyes fluttering open to fix him with a surprisingly vehement glare. "Don't you dare apologize for that, Leon Kennedy."

And then she was wrapped around him again, hands on his back, head fitting neatly against his chest.

"Ashley. . ." Words were difficult with her so close. He could feel the button on the waistband of her skirt pressing into his hip. He swallowed hard. "This isn't right. Sometimes when people are in a situation—"

Ashley turned her head and pressed her lips to the pulse in his neck, which began jumping so erratically Leon momentarily lost what he was saying. "This has nothing to do with the situation," she said in a small voice that sounded so much like a plea it nearly broke Leon. Still, duty made him grind out the words,

"It's like Stockholm Syndrome—"

"That's where you fall in love with your captor." Ashley's voice had grown even softer, and there was a hint of tears to it that drove straight to the heart of Leon's protests and shattered them to pieces. "And you're not my captor, Leon. You're my savior."

Almost before she had even finished speaking he was kissing her again, this time trying hard not to be so forceful but take his time caressing her lips and tongue, delicate and worshipping as she deserved. And she was right. This desire to kiss her softer and sweeter than he'd ever kissed anyone had nothing to do with the situation.

His mind flashed briefly to a time in Raccoon City when he and Claire had been pursued by a particularly large mob of flesh-hungry citizens and had finally found refuge in a small, secure room barely big enough for one grown person, let alone two. They had packed themselves in and shut door, limbs twisting around each other as they tried hard to stay still while footsteps shuffled outside. Claire's shirt had been torn and Leon's jacket long since ruined, but the feel of skin on skin then hadn't filled him with desire. No, as he and Claire had bandaged each other up then held on tight, breathlessly waiting for the coast to be clear, he had only felt exhaustion and relief that there was another living, breathing person besides himself trapped in the surreal hell of that city.

But with Ashley, just being in same room filled Leon with the need to touch her, and touching her always made him wish to hold her, or kiss her, and kissing her made him think sinfully of—

Ashley's mouth slid from his and she gasped a little for air, a brief convulsion that Leon recognized instantly making her body shudder in his hold. He tightened his arms around her, tucking her securely against him with more intimacy than lust, holding her until the shaking stopped. She hadn't been quite right about one thing— Leon wasn't just her savior. She was also his. When she touched him lightly or favored him with a rare smile or— Goddamnit, his mind could hardly accept it was real— kissed him, everything else disappeared. When she treated him with the softness he rarely got because he found it hard to deserve, there were no Ganados, no guns, no corpses, no nightmares come to life. There was just him and her, alone in a world that suddenly didn't seem so horrifying.

A distant sound reminded Leon of the all-too-real graveness of the present, and he pulled away from Ashley with a low groan.

"We have to go," he said, the regret in his voice almost comical given the bleakness of the dark cell they were standing in.

"Yeah." Ashley adjusted her sweater, her cheeks flushed and her lips lightly swollen. She looked a hundred times healthier than she had when he'd first arrived, and he couldn't resisted placing a soft kiss on each rosy cheek and a final one on her mouth.

"I won't lose you," he promised.

"I don't want you to," Ashley replied, slipping her hand into his. The trusting, fervent tone of the words tugged at Leon's heart with a pleasure-pain that he would remembered bitterly in such a brutally short while as he was forced for the second to time eat his promise, literally gagging on it as he writhed on the floor and Ashley strode so calmly past him, leaving without traps or bonds, Saddler's maniacal laughter filling the room. Her beautiful hazel eyes were replaced with a horrifying mockery of glowing, demonic red.

Leon screamed with the pain that wrenched through his body as he stretched out an arm, desperate to touch Ashley, to try and hold her back until she became herself again. Saddler continued to laugh, saying something about Las Plagas and Leon's will that sounded vaguely complimentary, but Leon was in far too much pain to understand it. He kept reaching, the only clear thought in his head, while his skin burned and his insides boiled and melted. Then both Ashley and Saddler were gone, leaving Leon retching violently on the floor until he rolled over his on back and lay still as a corpse, powerless to stop the darkness closing in around him.

He last thoughts were of delicate hands and full lips, soft sighing sounds and large, warm, shining hazel eyes.

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There is one more chapter on the way. It has already been started, so hopefully it won't take quite as long as this one did.


	6. Survival

Okay, so I lied, and this isn't the last chapter. There is one more after this one, already started, with a title and everything. So, thanks for sticking with me/this. Hopefully it/you is still going strong.

**Chapter 6- Survival**

It was amazing, Leon mused distractedly as a punch from Krauser knocked him against a far wall and drove all the air from his body, how much a simple emotion could be powerful enough to keep you on your feet, even allow you to fight when your stomach felt like it was attacking itself, your head pounded in an alarming counterpoint to your pulse and your vision was shaky at best.

Leon threw himself forward with a hard punch that was deflected as he expected, but the tip of his knife managed to catch a glancing blow on his former comrade's arm.

_Like now,_ he thought, anticipating the retaliating strike but going down hard nonetheless, tasting blood in his mouth. _If I didn't hate this bastard so goddamn much_— he lashed out with a violent kick, buying himself enough time to struggle to his feet— _I'd probably be dead by now._

Krauser leapt forward and Leon braced himself to meet him, knives sparking together, blood blossoming between them. Leon felt the warm heat of it wash over his arms and hands, unknowing and uncaring if it was his.

The realization that it was Krauser, his former comrade-in-arms, now a traitor possibly working for the company Leon hated above all others, who was responsible for bringing Ashley into this mess had filled Leon with a white-hot rage he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced before. It made him almost oblivious to the pain racking his body, to the blood spattering his clothing, to the dead body of Krauser sprawled glassy-eyed and openmouthed at his feet.

Leon stood there gasping for a moment, adrenaline coursing through his veins like an electrical current. He knew he should feel something about the murder of his former comrade, but with the hate and anger slowly leeching out of him he only felt empty, his body humming with a faint buzz, like drinking beer on empty stomach.

Leon thought he might have passed out then for second or two, though he realized with disconnected surprise that he couldn't fall over because he was suddenly already sitting down. Blank confusion set in, followed quickly by the clutching hands of panic; he didn't know where he was, what he was doing there, or why he was doing it.

Fragments of speech from his fight with Krauser filtered back to him, Krauser shouting "What is it that you fight for, comrade?" and Leon answering "My past."

He may have repeated the words aloud then. They sounded right and solid, and he knew they meant something. "My past," Leon said to himself, deftly twisting his body so he could empty the meager remains of his stomach onto the unforgiving metal floor; mostly just stinging acid laced with dirty ribbons of blood. "My past."

Images were flashing through his head like a scratched DVD, skipping from scene to scene. Arriving in Raccoon City, eager and full of woefully inadequate determination; arriving in Spain, grim and full of comically misplaced confidence. Moaning creatures with exposed brains and rotting skin. Spitting villagers with glowing eyes and filthy clothes. Meeting Ada for the first time, feeling awed and amazed and aroused; seeing her again, feeling rueful and jaded and cold. And a little aroused. Watching her fall; recognizing her gun; tracing her lips; flinching at her touch.

Then it was Claire, bloody hands loading a shotgun while her mouth curved into something like a smile; calloused hands on his sweat-drenched skin while her eyes screamed with fear; shaking hands on the controls of the train while she intoned reassurances to Sherry, him, and herself. Claire's voice on the phone, her take-out containers in the trash, her spot on the sofa.

The images hurt and Leon tried shutting his eyes or else opening them before realizing that he couldn't tell the difference, everything remained dark. Feelings and ideas began to attack him, slick and smothering; murder, hate, guilt, self-pity, self-loathing, and the frantic, desperate, consuming need to disbelieve. . .

Another image suddenly pierced through the deepening gloom in Leon's mind like a ray of pure winter sunlight, cool and clear. It wasn't a particularly special image, not a memory of a great moment nor a recollection of a stunning epiphany. It was simply the vague feeling of a head resting trustingly on his shoulder, a warm hand slipped into his own, and unclouded hazel eyes blinking slowly closed.

Ashley. Her name came back to him, along with the context of the image. It was the first time they had stopped for a rest. Though she was finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other, Ashley had blanched at Leon's suggestion of stopping for the remainder of the night. Her panicked pleading to keep moving had turned quickly into exhausted, terrified hysterics and Leon had sat her firmly next to him and held her hand and spoke soothingly to her about any insignificant thing he could think of; the latest movie he'd heard was good, the way his friend's newfound allergy to dairy didn't stop him from ordering a milk shake every time he went out to eat and developing a spectacular skin rash he'd bitch about for weeks, the time his pipes burst and flooded his apartment with ice cold water. Eventually Ashley calmed down enough to smile a little and participate some in the conversation, then all the tiredness she'd been denying hit her at once and she'd dropped off mid-sentence, head falling on Leon's shoulder, breathing steady and even.

He'd looked at her, nestled obliviously against him like a cat or a small child, and had thought, This is why I'm here.

Sweet and pure, Ashley was the embodiment of everything Leon fought for. The reason he'd joined the police force in the first place, one of the main reasons he returned after Raccoon City, was to protect people like her from all the horrors he knew existed in the world, horrors that only seemed to grow every day.

This thought finally brought Leon back to his senses, and he realized he'd been lying on the blood-soaked metal floor next to Krauser's body for who knew how long. He was covered in cold sweat and small shudders were chasing each other through his body, but he was able to stand, a sense of purpose filling him like strength.

He had become a police officer to protect people like Ashley. He had gone through months of training to become a special agent to protect people like Ashley. He had come to Spain, fought Ganados, watched Luis die, stood up to Ada, all for the sake of protecting Ashley. And now she had been taken from him, taken for a third time to some where he couldn't protect her, couldn't defend her innocence while secretly drinking it greedily in like a recovering alcoholic vicariously watching other people get drunk. Ashley had been taken from him when the only thing that kept him sane anymore was protecting her. Her own safety aside, he was going to do everything he could to get her back or he himself wasn't going to make it out alive.

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He found Ada before he found Ashley. He didn't know what to feel about her anymore. He was too tired to feel anger or betrayal, too disenchanted to feel hope or affection. Then Las Plagas took over and he didn't feel anything at all until Ada plunged a knife into his leg and the sharp pain brought him back to his senses.

He retched once, but with nothing to bring up it turned into a painful cough, and he was able to croak, "I'm sorry."

Ada just looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face while her hands unconsciously massaged her throat. "We have to get that parasite out of your body," she said at last.

Leon tried to manage a nod, but his throat was so swollen that every movement sent waves of pain through him. "I have to rescue Ashley," he said.

"We should split up then." Ada continued to look at him, blinking almost bemusedly. "You. . . she means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

Leon wiped blood from his mouth and met her gaze, trying to focus enough to formulate an answer to her question. He couldn't quite read the expression on Ada's face— confusion? contempt? worry? hurt?— so he decided to answer truthfully.

"Yes, she does."

Ada nodded once, tight and sharp, though her eyes looked warmer than Leon could remember seeing them in a long time. "Okay," she said, then turned around and disappeared into the deepening dusk, red dress swaying like an army standard.

Leon pressed on, fighting Ganados and his own body until finally, finally he entered a room, saw Saddler, then saw Ashley and nothing else mattered. He hardly noticed Saddler's attack, didn't react to Ada's sudden presence, couldn't think of anything but getting to Ashley. Cursing wildly he worked the controls with shaking hands, hands that suddenly held Ashley's, and as much as he wanted to hold her and touch her to draw a confirmation of life from her there was no time. They ran for the exit and he looked for Ada, catching her eye and trying to let her know. . . he was grateful and he was sorry and he was sick and he was dying—

Ashley tugged him from the room, and they stumbled down a hall. Her eyes were bright and her breathing even, and she was supporting Leon as he mumbled directions and tried to remember what right and left meant when the whole hallway was blurred and shaking. Ashley shouldn't be forced to be strong one; she shouldn't be holding him up; she shouldn't be the one urging them to keep moving when he stumbled and went down—

She screamed once as a Ganado lurched around the corner towards them, body jerking erratically from Las Plagas already worming a hole through it's neck. With a strangled yell, Leon yanked her behind him and surged to his feet in the same movement, firing an entire clip from his gun into the Ganado, knocking it to the floor and making very sure it would never get up.

Then he turned to Ashley, and with ashen skin and eyes so red the overabundance of wetness in them looked like blood he fell to his knees at her feet.

"Ashley." His tainted lips struggled to form her name. Standing above him, pale and beautiful, she looked like the image of some sort of gloriously fractured angel. His next words were drawn out like a knife from a stab wound. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Leon." Ashley lowered herself to his level. The symbolism of the act was not lost on Leon and he began to thrash, trying to get her to rise. Ashley placed her hands on either side of his face, stilling him with the steady stare of her warm hazel eyes. "None of this is your fault," she whispered.

He twitched again, trying to protest, trying to stand, trying to be the protector she needed him to be, but she held him still.

"It's not your fault," she repeated. "And we're going to get out of this." Her hands slid from his face to around his back and she hugged him tightly, her lips against his ear. "Luis' laboratory is near here, Leon, and it's operational. We can get Las Plagas out."

She pulled back and her eyes were filled with something so bright it seemed to burn into Leon, raging through his insides like an inferno, electrifying him like a piece of metal stuck into a socket. It took him a few long seconds of shaking, gasping awe to recognize what it was.

Hope. Glorious, shining hope. Ashley sparkled with it like a diamond in the sun. The sight of it was so wrenchingly beautiful Leon felt his breath catch and his heart stop. Then when Ashley leaned forward and brushed him with lips that were smiling, he felt it start again with a painfully exquisite jolt.

He pushed his lips against Ashley's, stealing her breath with a deep, soul-searching kiss. When he finally pulled back, he was able to hold her gaze without wavering.

"Let's go," he said.

And then they were up and moving; Ashley pointing the way and supporting Leon, his arm slung across her shoulders and their hands entwined, while Leon fought off Ganados and the darkness he couldn't bear to return to now.

After what surely was a couple of long, twisted years they reached a plain gray door with a fading plaque reading  
Laboratory  
Luis Sera

It seemed far too anticlimactic to Leon, that their moment of salvation should be found in a room hardly different from any of the others in the run-down complex. The science equipment that set the room apart looked as though it hadn't been used in years; both Leon and Ashley grimaced at the sight, but Leon stepped resolutely forward.

"I'll go first," he said, his attempt at suppressing a cough turning it into a wet splutter. He limped his way to the closer chair and with a tremendous effort pulled himself into it. Ashley hovered anxiously nearby, hands fluttering between Leon and the controls but not touching either.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

His position was highly uncomfortable; the angle of his head pressed on his neck and made him feel like he was suffocating. Still, he ground out a reasonably assured, "Yes."

"They gave me a shot before, something to suppress Las Plagas. . ." Ashley wasn't giving up, hazel gaze tight on Leon. "Maybe it's in here, and we could give it to you and then get to a real medical—"

"No time," Leon groaned, his body shuddering under a sudden wave of pain and dizziness. His vision blurred, making Ashley's frantic face glow like a faraway star. "If this doesn't work for me then you'll know, and you'll still have a chance to get out—"

"I don't want to get out without you." Leon could hear the tears beginning in Ashley's voice, and her hands finally settled on his shoulders. "I couldn't."

"Ashley." Her pleading voice and gentle touch were starting to break Leon's resolve. Another shudder went through him; his control was slipping. Remembering what happened to Ada, he spoke with as much command as he could manage, while also trying to be as gentle as possible. "Please, sweetheart, push the goddamn button."

Unable to hold back a sharp, tearful giggle at Leon's utterly mixed words and tone, Ashley removed her hands from his shoulders. He let out a sigh, thinking she had moved away and he could relax just a little, then he found her lips on his.

The kiss was chaste and sweet with an underlying hint of fear and desperation. It tasted of sugar and almonds mixed over the bitter smack of coffee. It was everything Leon thought of Ashley; it was her essence contained in a single kiss. She pulled away after only a moment, moving her lips to Leon's cheek instead and whispering,

"I love you."

Then before Leon could answer, before he could even think, she was at the controls and the machine was whirring and a fierce pain ripped through his entire body. His head was exploding while his body was imploding, he was disconnected, or maybe hyper-connected, he was sinking while flying, gasping while suffocating, drowning while being sucked dry.

A sudden flashback lurched its way to the front of his mind; a grizzled older man staring down at the mangled body sprawled before him, raspy voice saying callously,

"Only way to stop 'em is shoot 'em in the head. Or else take it clean off. Gotta ruin the brain, see? It's the only thing keepin' them going now that their heart's stopped."

The pain tore at Leon again and he spasmed, feeling one, two, three pulses slam through his body; whether it was his blood or something else he couldn't tell. His vision went white with spots of black bursting like fireworks, and he thought he couldn't possibly have died but done something much worse.

Another second of sheer agony and it was over. The sudden absence of pain felt almost like a physical blow in itself, and for a long moment Leon could do nothing but gasp and twitch. Gradually, he became aware of a small hand clinging tightly to his own, and after a few deep breaths he managed to open his eyes and find Ashley's face. It was very close, it's expression an all-too-familiar one of frantic tearfulness bordering on nausea.

"How do you feel?" Ashley asked anxiously.

Leon took a moment to fully appreciate the sight of her hazel eyes wide with worry, her lower lip snagged between even white teeth, her pale skin flushed from the tension.

"Wonderful," Leon answered. A beautiful smile of relief spread across Ashley's face, but she turned back to the machine before Leon had a chance to reach for her. Her fingers stabbed hesitantly at a few buttons, then she let out what sounded like a long-held sigh.

"It says you're clear," she reported, thrilled and triumphant. "No more parasite."

Leon slid from the chair with a groan, his body weak and aching but feeling more whole than it had almost since his arrival. He moved to stand behind Ashley, looking at the controls, unable to keep his hand from tracing a slow path up her arm to her shoulder.

She shivered lightly, then pulled away. "My turn," she said.

"Right." Leon could understand that she was nervous to undergo a procedure which she had just watched turn out to be rather painful, but there was more to the sudden wariness of her gaze and the limpness of her hand as Leon helped her onto the chair than that.

Before she had pressed the innocently blinking Y button to start the procedure, she had told Leon she loved him. He could see tiny hints of rejection and embarrassment beginning in Ashley's eyes, and though he despised causing her to feel two negative emotions she had yet had little cause to feel in Spain, he couldn't repeat her sentiments to her. Not there. Not then. All he could do was take her hand and bring to his lips, kissing it twice with a prayer and an apology in between.

Then he hit the button and Ashley screamed.

It was a short cry of surprise more than pain, but the sound tore at Leon nonetheless. He held tight to Ashley's hand, flinching at every miniscule toss of her head and every gasp that left her mouth. Watching her go through the procedure was far worse than going through it himself, though it was a small consolation that hers didn't seem quite as bad.

When the machines powered down and the screen blinked to a simple Procedure Complete. Repeat scan for parasites? Y/N. Leon hit Y and after a few agonizing moments in which he hardly noticed Ashley's hand slipping from his, the screen read Scan complete. No parasites detected and he took what felt like his first real breath in years.

"Clear?" Ashley asked, sitting up with only a small wince.

"Clear," Leon confirmed. He and Ashley looked at each other for a brief moment, both a little wide-eyed and breathing irregularly. Then Leon reached out tentatively and laid a hand on Ashley's cheek. He wasn't accustomed to touching people in such an intimate and gentle manner, but with Ashley it felt right. It felt easy. Far easier than what he wanted to say.

He began with the highly original "Ashley—" but she stopped him, putting her own hand to his cheek, just as shy and unsure and somehow making it all okay.

"I know, Leon," Ashley said quietly. She managed a small smile, warming the sadness in her hazel eyes to bittersweet. "I understand. It's. . . it's not me, or you. It's all of this—" she took her hand from his face to wave it at the room, the feeble gesture somehow managing to encompass the whole complex and experience of Spain as well. "It's everything that's happened here and that happened before, in that other city. And that other woman—"

"This is not about her," Leon had to interrupt, brushing a thumb across Ashley's cheek for emphasis.

"I know," Ashley said again. The smile was back, and she placed her hand over Leon's. "You're in survival mode. You have to be, or we wouldn't be alive."

"I guess that's something then," Leon replied, a very halfhearted attempt at a joke to disguise his mixed regret, relief, and profound gratitude that Ashley was completely right, completely comprehending. He slid onto the chair next to her and drew her into his arms. Ashley settled against him with comfortable familiarity, like a key fitting into a lock. Both of them shut their eyes— though Leon, still in survival mode, kept a hand firmly on his gun— and took deep breaths to confirm that for now, it was enough just being alive.

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Review please. I really love parts of this chapter, and I would like to hear what other people think.


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